Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace

by Terry Brooks

  “Not if I can help it!” the boy threw back, reaching for the deflectors. “Shields up!”

  Hauling back on the steering, he released the antigrav lifts. The starfighter rose from the hangar floor, throwing off the droid commander, sending him sprawling in a crumpled heap. The droids under his command began firing their blasters, the laser beams ricocheting off the fighter’s deflectors, angling away in a tangle of bright streamers.

  R2-D2 beeped wildly. “The gun locks are off!” Anakin exclaimed with a joyful shout. “Now we’ll show them!”

  He punched in the firing buttons and held them down, rotating the fighter clockwise above the hangar floor. Laser beams rocketed in a pinwheel pattern, scything into the unprotected battle droids, disabling them before they could even think to flee. Anakin was howling with glee, caught up in the exhilaration of finding himself back in control. Lasers firing, he swept the hangar floor clean of droids, watching those still distant rush for cover, watching ships and supplies fly apart as the deadly beams cut through them.

  Then something moved at the end of a long corridor, no more than a shadow, and deep inside, his instincts kicked into high gear, shrieking at him in a frenzy of need. He didn’t know if what he was seeing was a weapon or a machine or something else, and it didn’t matter. He was back in the Podraces, locked in battle with Sebulba, and he could see what no one else could, what was hidden from all others. He reacted without thinking, responding to a voice that spoke to him alone, that whispered always of the future while warding him in the present.

  Acting of its own accord, faster than thought, his hand left the laser firing buttons and threw a double-hinged switch to the right. Instantly, a pair of torpedoes sped down the corridor in the direction of the shadow. The torpedoes whipped past the battle droids, supply stacks, transports, and everything else, and disappeared through a broad vent.

  The boy groaned. “Darn! Missed everything!”

  Giving the matter no further thought, he swung the fighter about swiftly and threw the thruster bars forward. The power drive kicked in with a ferocious roar, and the starfighter shot across the hangar deck, scattered droids in every direction, and catapulted back out into space, cannon fire from the battleship chasing after it in a stream of deadly white fire.

  Darth Maul walked slowly to the edge of the melting pit, tattooed face bathed in sweat, eyes wild and bright with joy. The battle was finished. The last Jedi was about to be dispatched. He smiled and shifted the remnant of his shattered lightsaber from one hand to the other, savoring the moment.

  Eyes fixed on the Sith Lord, Obi-Wan Kenobi went deep inside himself, connecting with the Force he had worked so hard to understand. Calming himself, stilling the trembling of his heart, and banishing his anger and fear, he called upon the last of his reserves. With clarity of purpose and strength of heart, he launched himself away from the side of the pit and catapulted back toward its lip. Imbued with the power of the Force, he cleared the rim easily, somersaulting behind the Sith Lord in a single smooth, powerful motion. Even as he landed, he was drawing Qui-Gon Jinn’s fallen lightsaber to his outstretched hand.

  Darth Maul whirled to confront him, shock and rage twisting his red and black face. But before he could act to save himself, Qui-Gon’s lightsaber slashed through his chest, burning him with killing fire. The stricken Sith Lord howled in pain and disbelief.

  Then Obi-Wan turned, thumbed his saber off, and watched his dying enemy tumble away into the pit.

  “Whoa, this is way better than Podracing!” Anakin Skywalker shouted at R2-D2, grinning broadly as he zigzagged his Naboo fighter back and forth to throw the gunners off.

  The astromech droid was beeping and chirping as if he had fried all his circuits, but the boy refused to listen, rolling and banking the starfighter wildly, angling back toward Naboo and away from the control station.

  Then a shocked voice came over the intercom from another of the fighters. “Bravo Leader, what’s happening to the control ship?”

  In the next instant, a flash of pulsing light swept past him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the battleship he had escaped wracked by a series of explosions. Huge chunks tore away from the core, hurtling into space.

  “It’s blowing up from the inside!” the voice on the intercom exclaimed.

  “Wasn’t us, Bravo Two,” Ric Olié replied quickly. “We never hit it.”

  The battleship continued to break apart, the explosions tearing through it, shattering it, engulfing it, and finally consuming it altogether in a brilliant ball of light.

  Debris flew past the canopy of Anakin’s fighter, and the light of the explosions faded to black.

  “Look!” Bravo Two broke the sudden silence anew. “That’s one of ours! Outta the main hold! Must’ve been him!”

  Anakin cringed. He had hoped he might get back to the planet unseen, avoid having to explain to Qui-Gon what he was doing up here. There was no chance of that now.

  R2-D2 beeped reprovingly at him. “I know, I know,” he muttered wearily, and wondered just how much trouble he had gotten himself into this time.

  Blaster shots hammered into the door of the throne room in the palace at Theed. Captain Panaka and the Naboo soldiers spread out to either side in a defensive stance, preparing a crossfire for the droids. Nute Gunray wanted to move out of range, but the Queen was still facing him, her blaster leveled at his midsection, and he did not care to risk provoking her into a hasty action. So he stood there with the others of the Trade Council, frozen in place.

  Then abruptly, everything went still. All sound of weapons fire and droid movement beyond the battered throne room doors ceased.

  Captain Panaka looked at the Queen, his dark face uncertain. “What’s going on?” he asked worriedly.

  Amidala, her weapon pointed at Nute Gunray, shook her head. “Try communications. Activate the viewscreens.”

  Her head of security moved quickly to do so. All eyes were on him as he slowly brought the outer screens into focus.

  On the Naboo grasslands, the Gungan army had been overrun. Some of the Gungans had escaped back into the swamp on their kaadu, and some had fled into the hills west. All were being chased by battle droids on STAPs and by Trade Federation tanks. There was not much hope that they would remain free for long.

  Most of the Gungans had already been taken prisoner, Jar Jar Binks among them. He stood now in a group of Gungan officers that included General Ceel. All around them, their fellow Gungans were being herded away by Trade Federation droids.

  “Dis very bombad,” Jar Jar ventured disconsolately.

  General Ceel nodded, equally forlorn. “Me hope dis worken for da Queen.”

  Jar Jar sighed. And Annie, Quiggon, Obi-One, Artoo, and all the rest. He wondered what had happened to them. Had they been captured, too? He thought suddenly of Boss Nass. Da Boss wasn’t gonna like this one bit. Jar Jar hoped he wasn’t going to get the blame, but he couldn’t quite rule out the possibility.

  Suddenly, all the droids started shaking violently. Some began to run around in circles, others to dip and sway as if their gears had snapped and their circuits shorted out. Tanks skidded to a halt and STAPs crashed. All activity came to a complete stop.

  Jar Jar and General Ceel exchanged a confused look. The droid army had locked up. For as far as the eye could see, it stood frozen in place.

  Gungan prisoners stared at the motionless droids. Finally, at General Ceel’s urging, Jar Jar edged out of the containment circle and touched one of his metal captors. The droid tipped over and lay lifeless on the grass.

  “Dis loony,” Jar Jar whispered, and wondered what in the world was going on.

  Obi-Wan did not pause to consider what it had cost him to win his victory over Darth Maul, but rushed immediately to Qui-Gon. Kneeling at the Jedi Master’s side, he lifted his head and shoulders and cradled him gently in his arms.

  “Master!” he breathed in a whisper.

  Qui-Gon’s eyes opened. “Too late, my young Padawan.”
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  “No!” Obi-Wan shook his head violently in denial.

  “Now you must be ready, whether the Council thinks you so or not. You must be the teacher.” The strong face twisted in pain, but the dark eyes were steady. “Obi-Wan. Promise me you will train the boy.”

  Obi-Wan nodded instantly, agreeing without thinking, willing to say or do anything that would ease the other’s pain, desperate to save him. “Yes, Master.”

  Qui-Gon’s breathing quickened. “He is the chosen one, Obi-Wan. He will bring balance to the Force. Train him well.”

  His eyes locked on Obi-Wan’s and lost focus. His breathing stopped. The strength and the life went out of him.

  “Master,” Obi-Wan Kenobi repeated softly, still holding him, bringing him closer now, hugging the lifeless body against his chest, and crying softly. “Master.”

  Three days later, Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in a small room of the Theed temple in which the deaths of heroes were mourned and their lives celebrated. Qui-Gon Jinn’s body lay in state on a bier in the plaza just outside, awaiting cremation. Already the citizenry and officials of the Naboo and the Gungan peoples were gathering to honor the Jedi Master.

  Much had changed in the lives of those who had fought in the struggle for Naboo sovereignty. With the collapse of the droid army, the Trade Federation’s control over Naboo had been broken. All of the ground transports, tanks, STAPs, and weapons and supplies were in the hands of the Republic. Viceroy Nute Gunray, his lieutenant, Rune Haako, and the remainder of the Neimoidian occupation council had been shipped as prisoners to Coruscant to await trial. Senator Palpatine had been elected as supreme chancellor of the Republic, and he had promised swift action in the dispensing of justice to the captives.

  Queen Amidala had outfoxed the Neimoidians one final time by pretending to surrender so she could gain safe access to the viceroy before he had time to flee. She had communicated to Sabé to break away from the struggle taking place several floors below and to use the service passages to reach the Queen’s chambers and then make her appearance before the viceroy. It was a calculated risk, and Sabé might not have been able to get there in time. Had she not, Amidala would have triggered the secret compartment release and fought for her freedom in any case. She was young, but she was not without courage or daring. She had shown intelligence and insight from the beginning of the time the Jedi had come to assist her. Obi-Wan thought she would make a very good Queen.

  But it was a nine-year-old boy who had saved them all. Even without knowing exactly what he was doing, Anakin Skywalker had flown a starfighter into the teeth of the Federation defense, penetrated their shields, landed in the belly of the Neimoidian flagship, torpedoed the ship’s reactor, and set off a chain reaction of explosions that destroyed the control station. It was the destruction of the central transmitter that had caused the droid army to freeze in place, their communications effectively short-circuited. Anakin claimed not to have attacked with any sort of plan in mind or fired his starfighter’s torpedoes with any expectation of hitting the reactor. But after hearing the boy’s tale and questioning him thoroughly, Obi-Wan believed Anakin was guided by something more than the thinking of ordinary men. That extraordinarily high midi-chlorian count gave the boy a connection to the Force that even Jedi Masters on the order of Yoda might never achieve. Qui-Gon, he now believed, had been right. Anakin Skywalker was the chosen one.

  He paced the room, dressed in fresh clothing for the funeral, soft, loose-fitting, sand-colored Jedi Knight garb, Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, now his own, hanging from his belt. The Jedi Council had come to Naboo for the funeral and to speak again with Anakin. They were doing so now, close by, making a final assessment based on what had transpired since their last session with the boy. Obi-Wan thought the outcome of their deliberations must be a foregone conclusion. He could not imagine now that it wouldn’t be.

  He stopped his pacing and stared momentarily at nothing, thinking of Qui-Gon Jinn, his Master, his teacher, his friend. He had failed Qui-Gon in life. But he would carry on his work now, honoring him in death by fulfilling his promise to train the boy, no matter what.

  Listen to me, he thought, smiling ruefully. I sound like him.

  The door opened, and Yoda appeared. He entered the room in a slow shuffle, leaning on his walking stick, his wizened face sleepy-eyed and contemplative.

  “Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan greeted, hurrying forward to meet him, bowing deferentially.

  The Jedi Master nodded. “Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight, the Council does. Decided about the boy, the Council is, Obi-Wan,” he advised solemnly.

  “He is to be trained?”

  The big ears cocked forward, and the lids to those sleepy eyes widened. “So impatient, you are. So sure of what has been decided?”

  Obi-Wan bit his tongue and kept his silence, waiting dutifully on the other. Yoda studied him carefully. “A great warrior, was Qui-Gon Jinn,” he gargled softly, his strange voice sad. “But so much more he could have been, if not so fast he had run. More slowly, you must proceed, Obi-Wan.”

  Obi-Wan stood his ground. “He understood what the rest of us did not about the boy.”

  But Yoda shook his head. “Be not so quick to judge. Not everything, is understanding. Not all at once, is it revealed. Years, it takes, to become a Jedi Knight. Years more, to become one with the Force.”

  He moved over to a place where the fading light shone in through a window, soft and golden. Sunset approached, the appointed time for their farewell to Qui-Gon.

  Yoda’s gaze was distant when he spoke. “Decided, the Council is,” he repeated. “Trained, the boy shall be.”

  Obi-Wan felt a surge of relief and joy flood through him, and a grateful smile escaped him.

  Yoda saw the smile. “Pleased, you are? So certain this is right?” The wrinkled face tightened. “Clouded, this boy’s future remains, Obi-Wan. A mistake to train him, it is.”

  “But the Council—”

  “Yes, decided.” The sleepy eyes lifted. “Disagree with that decision, I must.”

  There was a long silence as the two faced each other, listening to the sounds of the funeral preparations taking place without. Obi-Wan did not know what to say. Clearly the Council had decided against the advice of Yoda. That in itself was unusual. That the Jedi Master chose to make a point of it here emphasized the extent of his concerns about Anakin Skywalker.

  Obi-Wan spoke carefully. “I will take this boy as my Padawan, Master. I will train him in the best way I can. But I will bear in mind what you have told me here. I will go carefully. I will heed your warnings. I will keep close watch over his progress.”

  Yoda studied him a moment, then nodded. “Your promise, then, remember well, young Jedi,” he said softly. “Sufficient, it is, if you do.”

  Obi-Wan bowed in acknowledgment. “I will remember.”

  Together, they went out into a blaze of light.

  The funeral pyre was lit, the fire building steadily around the body of Qui-Gon Jinn, the flames slowly beginning to envelop and consume him. Those who had been chosen to honor him encircled the pyre. Queen Amidala stood with her handmaidens, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Governor Sio Bibble, Captain Panaka, and an honor guard of one hundred Naboo soldiers. Boss Nass, Jar Jar Binks, and twenty Gungan warriors stood across from them. Linking them together were the members of the Jedi Council, including Yoda and Mace Windu. Another clutch of Jedi Knights, those who had known Qui-Gon longest and best, completed the circle.

  Anakin Skywalker stood with Obi-Wan, his young face intense as he fought to hold back his tears.

  A long, sustained drum roll traced the passage of the flames as they reduced Qui-Gon to spirit and ash. When the fire had taken him away, a flight of snowy doves was released into a crimson sunset. The birds rose in a flutter of wings and a splash of pale brilliance, winging swiftly away.

  Obi-Wan found himself remembering. For his entire life, he had studied under the Jedi, and Qui-Gon Jinn, in particular. Now Qui-Gon was gone, and
Obi-Wan had passed out of an old life and into a new. Now he was a Jedi Knight, not a Padawan. Everything that had gone before was behind a door that had closed on him forever. It was hard to accept, and at the same time, it gave him an odd sense of release.

  He looked down at Anakin. The boy was staring at the ashes of the funeral bier, crying softly.

  He put his hand on one slim shoulder. “He is one with the Force, Anakin. You must let him go.”

  The boy shook his head. “I miss him.”

  Obi-Wan nodded. “I miss him, too. And I will remember him always. But he is gone.”

  Anakin wiped the tears from his face. “What will happen to me now?”

  The hand tightened on the boy’s shoulder. “I will train you, just as Qui-Gon would have done,” Obi-Wan Kenobi said softly. “I am your new Master, Anakin. You will study with me, and you will become a Jedi Knight, I promise you.”

  The boy straightened, a barely perceptible act. Obi-Wan nodded to himself. Somewhere, he thought, Qui-Gon Jinn would be smiling.

  Across the way, Mace Windu stood with Yoda, his strong dark face contemplative as he watched Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin Skywalker’s shoulder.

  “One life ends and a new one begins in the Jedi order,” he murmured, almost to himself.

  Yoda hunched forward, leaning on his gnarled staff, and shook his head. “Not so sure of this one as of Qui-Gon, do I feel. Troubled, he is. Wrapped in shadows and difficult choices.”

  Mace Windu nodded. He knew Yoda’s feelings on the matter, but the Council had made its decision. “Obi-Wan will do a good job with him,” he said, shifting the subject. “Qui-Gon was right. He is ready.”

  They knew of what the young Padawan had done to save himself from the Sith Lord in the melting pit after Qui-Gon had been struck down. It took an act of extraordinary courage and strength of will. Only a Jedi Knight fully in tune with the Force could have saved himself against such an adversary. Obi-Wan Kenobi had proved himself beyond everyone’s expectations that day.